Gemotions

The information, delivered over the phone by a genealogist, sent a wave of… *intensity* through Evelyn. Her quaint farmhouse, once a family residence, had been the site of a cold case disappearance in the 1950s. She clutched the receiver so hard her knuckles were white.

Without pausing, she grabbed her keys and rushed outside. She needed to move, to feel the wind against her face, to *do*. She ran to her garden shed.

She began to dig, tearing at the earth with her bare hands. She imagined the past occupants, the victim, the secrets buried beneath. The soil felt cool and inviting on her skin. She felt a deep connection to her house, a sense of belonging she had never experienced before.